


love is an infinite notion

by minijhi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Five Times, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2083968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minijhi/pseuds/minijhi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is love, but it feels bigger.</p><p>OR</p><p>Six times Kuroo says ‘I love you’, and the one time he says ‘me too’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love is an infinite notion

**Author's Note:**

> It was KuroKen weekend, which I apparently missed, so I tried to console myself by writing Kuro/Ken/Tsukki. There is so much fluffy kissing in this fic it's ridiculous, but it makes me so happy.

The relationship finds its beginnings because of circumstance.  If it was love, it didn't always start out as love for each other.  In the beginning, it was falling in love with volleyball.  It started in the numerous training camps spent together, trying to figure out how the world worked and what that had to do with volleyball.  It built on late night practices, waking up with aching limbs and more questions.  If it was love, it started with falling in love with volleyball, then only with the people who loved it as much as you did.

It was a comfort, having another person to toss to or share that desperate drink of water with.  None of them are used to things being easy, but some things come naturally:  late one night at camp, Kuroo Tetsurou, Tsukishima Kei and Kozume Kenma played a match, maybe two.  They tossed and served and _worked_ , side by side, and in that moment they transcended the status of being players of rival teams, to friends.

Somehow it continued, a friendship born out of convenience,  growing into one that stood the test of distance, with Kuroo in college, Kenma in Nekoma and Tsukishima back in Karasuno.

It changes again when Tsukishima is visiting Tokyo at the end of his junior year.  Kenma is a senior this year, and next year he will be joining Kuroo at college, together again.   It is a-year-and-a-half into a friendship that at times was still so thin Kuroo was afraid it would snap with one wrong move, and the thin line is tested when Tsukishima catches Kuroo and Kenma making out in the bicycle racks behind the Nekoma gym.

There is a resounding clatter as Tsukishima knocks over an entire row of bicycles.

“You knew we were together.”  Kuroo says, in their defense.

“I just don’t want to be alone.”  Tsukishima admits, at long last.

 

-

 

The silence stifles.  It tastes like autumn in the middle of spring, the air dry and all life dying.

“We like you, Tsukki.”  Kuroo says, Kenma standing beside him.  “We like you a lot.  Why don’t we… figure something out?”

 

-

 

The strange dynamic that characterized their relationship was something difficult to put into words.  It was the kind of love that textbooks didn’t teach you about, that magazines glossed over, his classmate once called it ‘love’ and Kuroo shook his head, remembering last night and the deep kisses to Kenma’s lips and Tsukishima’s arm draped around his back on the other side of the bed. Kuroo has had friends, has had lovers— but none of them come close to how Kuroo feels with Kenma and Tsukishima, like he’s been handed the universe on a platter, perfect and whole and wanting.

It is love, but it feels bigger.

During Kuroo’s second year in college and Kenma’s first, they move in together, and at night, when they get home from college, they skype Tsukishima.

Then, it is still very much an exploration. Kuroo’s lost and without a map, words trying to find answers the way dolphins emit sound waves and the answer bounces back:  here it is, here it is.

The seasons pass, and they all become an intrinsic part of who the other has become.  Kuroo watches Kenma grow, becoming reserved but not timid, Kenma grows taller, but still no match for Kuroo, who shoots up to match him.  The games in Kenma’s hand change, appearing less and less frequently, and Kenma pokes his nose into the books that Kuroo leaves lying around the house.  With time, the boy’s blond hair extends long and messy until the bleach is almost all gone, and then Kenma returns one day with his hair in a careless ponytail and hands him another bottle of bleach.  There’s a strange sense of nostalgia in sitting there putting the bleach in Kenma’s hair again, and it makes Kuroo wistful, it makes him feel old.

They see Tsukishima during the holidays, still the tallest of them all.  They see his relationship with his team improve, and they see him smile instead of smirk, honest, genuine laughter bursting out of him at random intervals. For Kuroo, Tsukishima’s laughter is a bag of Christmas presents come early every single time.

Of the things that don’t change, it is still the three of them.  Stolen kisses, midnight phone calls, memorizing class schedules and holidays to make room for the places they still match, and to hold them close.  Every beat in the relationship speaks of give and take, but Kuroo has gained more from it than he has lost in a lifetime.

By the time Tsukishima graduates from high school, Kuroo doesn’t feel lost anymore.  He talks to Kenma, and they decide that Kenma should be the one to give Tsukishima the key to their apartment, a graduation gift, an invitation.

They walk around Miyagi after Tsukishima’s graduation ceremony, wandering absently in the streets and reminiscing the old days. Eventually, Kenma gets caught up in explaining something to Tsukishima about a new game, and Kuroo trails behind, daydreaming, watching the cherry blossoms float by in the river, hears the chirping of crickets and birds singing and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.  Some days he feels breathless from how perfect everything is, dreams coming true at every street corner, the path before them paved with only good things.

Kuroo opens his eyes again just in time to see Kenma quietly reach out and take Tsukishima’s hand.  Kuroo startles, and then his heart swells with joy. He feels no jealousy, only an odd sense of pride.

 _I love you both,_ Kuroo thinks, and when they both stop at the end of the road, turn back to look at him, Kuroo realizes how true it is.

 

-

 

When Tsukishima first moves in, he sleeps on the couch for a whole month before they finally buy an extra bed and somehow wrestle it into the room.  With the additional bed, the room is even more crammed than it was before, and little of the floor remains to be seen under the furniture.  When they sleep, Kuroo is usually in the middle, with Kenma on his left and Tsukishima on his right.

It was at Kenma’s request that they settled on this arrangement. 

“You’ll crush me in my sleep.”  Kenma had said flatly, looking at both of them.

Tsukishima shrugged.  “I’ll take the other end.”

Kuroo eyes the center of the bed.  “I don’t really want—”  he begins, and sees Kenma’s body tense.  In a swift motion, he pulls Kenma towards him, entwining their fingers, crouching down.

“What?”

It speaks volumes of how they grown when Kenma is honest with them both.

“I’m not— comfortable with it yet.” Kenma admits, cheeks tinged red. He looks at Tsukishima when he speaks, although his hand grips Kuroo’s tightly.  Kuroo squeezes back, kissing Kenma on the top of his head. Kuroo, who has learned in this lifetime that nothing mattered more to him than Kenma’s happiness, sees the warning signs and agrees readily.

“It’s okay.”  Kuroo says.  As a reassurance to Tsukishima, he says, “It took years before he even let me sleep over when we were kids, you know?”

Tsukishima puts a hand on Kenma’s head, fingers running through golden hair.  “Thanks for letting me stay.”  He says, and Kenma leans into the touch, nodding.

So Kuroo sleeps in the middle that night, and the following night, and every night after and when he wakes up every morning he’s inevitably tangled up in limbs, smothered in blankets and a faceful of someone’s hair, or having sunken into space in between both beds, his rear end clipped on both sides with loose sheets and bedframes. 

But Kenma is fast asleep beside him every night, and when Kuroo wakes up in the morning the blond head is curled up against his chest, breathing soft and warm and happy.  If Kuroo turns around, he can see the gentle rise and fall of Tsukishima’s chest, the rest of the boy hidden by pillows.

Kuroo will wake up every day for the rest of his life like this if it means waking up next to these two.

  

-

  

People often assume that Kuroo is the one who keeps the relationship alive.  It’s not hard to see where this assumption comes from, Kuroo is the boy with all the smiles, charming personality, loud laughter and words that say exactly what he means.

Sometimes, Kuroo hears it so much that he even believes it.

“Why Kozume and Tsukishima, though?” he once hears a classmate ask behind his back.  It was an honest, curious question, and Kuroo does not begrudge the boy for it. “If you ask me, they’re really not really relationship material, are they?  I mean, what do they do when Kuroo’s not around? Ignore each other?”

It makes Kuroo feel guilty.  Back even when he was still in high school, he’d found Tsukishima attractive, way before they’d initiated the boy into their relationship.  Sometimes Kuroo wonders if he’d forced Kenma into it, if his request had been taken as an ultimatum instead of the suggestion that it had been.  Kuroo remembers all the times he’d find Kenma hopelessly in over his head at the change in their relationship, from being a tiny world of just two, to an extra person that he hadn’t spent a childhood growing up with, a person who wasn’t used to his silence and automatically knowing what to say and do. 

Kuroo wonders if he’s asking too much, being too greedy for wanting—getting, and trying to keep—everything.  Walking home from class that day, Kuroo realizes he has an intense fear of being alone, one that he had never quite come to terms with in the absence of the very possibility.  It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and he grapples to find the right question to ask.

However, when he gets home, he finds Tsukishima’s homework sitting on the coffee table abandoned, and Kenma’s latest game half-drowned in the fluffy carpet under the table.  Kuroo raises his eyebrows, and then hears a low voice coming from their bedroom.

He knocks once before pushing the door open, and finds Tsukishima lying on the bed, propped on his elbows beside Kenma, pressing delicate kisses into the smaller boy’s collarbone.  Kenma’s fingers are wrapped in the material of Tsukishima’s shirt, and Kuroo has to bite his lip because his boyfriends are so borderline hot and adorable at the same time.

“Hey Kuroo.”  Tsukishima says, turning back briefly.

“Hmm.”  Kenma says, not opening his eyes.

Kuroo runs a hand through his hair then back out of the room, leaving the door ajar.  He drops his bag and books in the living room, goes to the kitchen, pours himself a drink and then just stands at the doorway of the bedroom, watching.

Tsukishima leans over Kenma, his much larger frame practically hiding the other from view.  When Tsukishima sighs, pressing a light kiss to Kenma’s lips, the released exhale of pleasure courses through Kuroo’s very bones.

Kenma is quiet about who he loves and who he does not, and it is easy to forget sometimes that Kenma’s not the kind of person who would agree to something he’s not comfortable with, because of how easily he often gives.  But when he hears Kenma murmur a reverent “Kei” in between his lips, Kuroo remembers— 

Kenma and Tsukishima love each other too.

 

 

-

 

 

Kuroo cannot stay away for long.

 “I love you.”  Kuroo tells them, leaning over Kenma to brush his lips against the younger boy’s eyelids in succession. Kenma smiles sleepily, and Kuroo can’t help but kiss his lips too, and Tsukishima grouses about Kuroo coming over and disturbing them but willingly lets Kuroo silence him with a kiss.

“You know that, right?”  Kuroo says, when the kiss ends.  Kuroo lets his fingers loosen, dropping to Tsukki’s lap.

“Yeah,”  Tsukki says.  “I know.”

They fall asleep like that, and by the time they wake again they’ve missed dinner and all the shops are closed.  Tsukishima ends up ransacking the practically empty fridge and throwing together something that passes for a meal. Kuroo sits on the kitchen counter whining about being hungry, while outside Kenma fights a final boss.

 

-

 

It is not always tender kisses and close heartbeats, skin against skin and quiet admissions of love and worship under blankets and on the kitchen tiles.

Kuroo sometimes takes joking overboard and he’s often way too pushy when he wants something, Kenma can be too apathetic and lazy, and Tsukishima with his sharp remarks, can cut deep and swift with a single, well-aimed comment.  Like all relationships, it is not easy, and more often than not it is a battle between Kuroo and Tsukishima, because unlike with Kenma, when one of them fights, the other fights back.

There is a fight during Kuroo’s third-year in college that encompasses all three of them, starting from something small like laundry or the dishes or who left the door unlocked again, but it escalates into a shouting match that brings every single tiny hurt that any one of them have let simmer over the past few months come bursting to the surface. It is dirty, low and absolutely hurtful, and it reaches a climax and jerks to an abrupt stop when Kuroo says, full of regret, “Sometimes I don't know why we make this so hard on ourselves.  Maybe if we-"  cuts himself off, only to continue  "I just wish- I wish we were easier.”

It's not the first time they've had this conversation, but it's never been brought up like this, never in a fight, and absolutely never laced with such sorrow, such regret.  The air cackles with static energy, tense and cold and thick.  Kenma is the first to leave, and he retreats into the bedroom, locking the door behind him with a click.  Tsukishima and Kuroo stand staring at each other over the dining table, and Kuroo finds his apology trembling at the back of his throat.

“Go get some fresh air.”  Tsukishima says.  It is not a suggestion.

Kuroo leaves, but sits on the front steps of the house and lets Tsukishima throw pots and pans around the kitchen. Kuroo doesn’t have the luxury of breaking things to make himself feel better, that habit is reserved for Tsukishima alone.  Instead, he sinks to the ground and waits. 

The air stinks of gasoline and tires, and the couple of potted plants Kenma has threatened into growing in pots by each step are the only things Kuroo can look at without feeling disgusted with himself.   He does not care for fresh air, not at a time like this.

He counts the seconds, letting it drag to minutes, and a whole half an hour passes before the din inside the house finally dies down. It’s too silent then, eerie, almost surreal, and Kuroo wrenches himself to his feet and kneads his knuckles into the door.

“I’m sorry.  I love you.”  Kuroo says, forehead pressed against the wood.

A soft voice speaks on the other end, so close that he knows Tsukishima is standing right by the door too, listening. “Who?” Tsukishima asks. “Who are you talking to?”

“Both of you.”  Kuroo says steadily, making sure his voice carries.  Kuroo strongly believes in second chances, and he knows he deserves as many as he can get and he will take every single one of them until they stop giving. It takes effort to speak coherently, but the words are not words he is selfish with, and he holds them out in the open.  “Please. I love you both.  I need you both.”

 _Need,_ Kuroo realizes, _is an extension of love._ He feels the wood give way beneath his hands and the door opens, revealing both Tsukishima and Kenma standing there, waiting for him to come home.

You can give up on something you love, but you die without the things you need.

 

-

 

There is a report of a car accident at the intersection on the evening news, and Kenma and Tsukishima have not returned from the quick errand-run they had gone on.  Kuroo waits at the dinner table, his head buried in his arms, staring at his phone.  Five missed calls each to both their numbers, and an equal amount of text messages, but no one picks up.  Kuroo’s heart tightens and despair pools in his stomach.  He expects the worst and finally gets it in the form of a phone call from the hospital.

“Fractured ankle, multiple lacerations, broken ribs—”

Kuroo borrows Sawamura Daichi’s car and drives to the hospital with his hands shaking.

 _I love you,_ Kuroo’s terror begs.  _Please don’t leave me._

 

-

 

Kenma had taken the brunt of the accident. The lorry had been coming from the left, skidding in the rain and ploughing straight into the passenger’s side, metal giving way with an instantaneous crack.  When the firemen had finally been able to extract the metal door from the car to get to the people inside, it had been splattered red.

“Kozume-san will be fine.”  The doctors promise him, but seeing Kenma swathed in the hospital gown and hooked to numerous dangerous looking machines, Kuroo is not reassured. 

The door opens a crack, and Tsukishima steps in, one arm in a sling and looking horribly pale.  There is a small bandage taped to one side of his forehead.

“I’m so sorry.”  Tsukishima says in a whisper, and he stops at the very entrance of the room, head bowed.  “It was my fault.  If I’d just reacted faster, or drove slower, something—”

Kuroo closes the distance in between them, as Tsukishima chances a look at Kenma, in the bed.  “Maybe I should stop—maybe I shouldn’t—”  Tsukishima takes a gulp of air.  “Maybe I should leave.”

Kuroo remembers then, that Tsukishima has always had insecurities and doubts about his place in their relationship. Most days it doesn’t even cross his mind, but every once in awhile, like today, Tsukishima gets this notion in his head, tearing himself apart with the belief that love is only big enough for two people.

“Don’t you ever think that—Kei, don’t you ever—” Kuroo says, his words tight and heavy.  He takes a shuddering breath, and says as steadily as he can, “You belong with us, don’t you dare think otherwise.”

Tsukishima breaks then, and Kuroo holds him while he cries. A tear slips onto Kuroo cheek, and he feels the warmth like a scorching heat. 

“I love you.  We both do.” he tells Tsukishima, over and over again, like insistent waves lapping against a shore that cannot extend its arms to hug back. However many times Tsukishima needs to hear it, Kuroo promises he will be there to say it.

Kenma wakes up three hours later, confused and in pain and scared.  Eyes glimmering with unshed tears and heart doused in relief, Kuroo doesn’t realize his lips have spoken until Kenma’s weak, answering smile says, ‘ _I love you too’_.

 

-

 

Kenma is released from the hospital the next evening, and they eat at home over a meal that tastes bland not from lack of seasoning, but from lack of appetite.  Tsukishima fusses over the dishes in the kitchen after dinner, and Kenma slips away to their bedroom.

“Tsukki is sorry.”  Kuroo says, as he watches Kenma brush his teeth and pull out a change of clothes.

“It’s not his fault.”  Kenma says tersely.  He sounds like he has had this discussion before, and Kuroo thinks that’s probably not far from the truth.  Tsukishima has been precious little short of an omnipresent force by the boy’s side since the accident, leaving plenty of instances for them to argue about who is to blame.

Kenma’s hair falls over his face like a curtain as he tries to change his shirt, but with a tiny hiss of pain, his arms drop back to his side.  Kuroo moves over, letting his fingers brush lightly against Kenma’s skin in comfort before pulling the shirt over the boy’s head, and has to shut his eyes for a moment at the sight.

The boy’s chest and side are mottled with dark bruising, thunderstorms painted onto pale skin, and the lightning comes in the form of Tsukishima, pushing open the bedroom door and freezing at the sight. The smoothness of the demeanor Tsukishima had spent the entire night trying so hard to fake cracks, and the look on his face is so wrong.

“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”  Tsukishima says, and he’s gone before anyone can stop him.

Kuroo wraps his arms around Kenma when he sobs and folds into himself, and what Tsukishima doesn’t know is that Kenma is sorry too— _‘if I had been stronger, if I hadn’t gotten hurt, if I hadn’t delayed us at the store—'_

That night, it goes back to being just the two of them again.

The walls were not built to hold this kind of emptiness.

 

-

 

Kuroo wakes up the next morning to dawn breaking and an orange sky the colour of Hinata Shouyou’s hair.  On either side of him, the bed is empty. His first, panicked reaction chokes him, and he checks either side of the bed to make sure Kenma hadn’t fallen off the bed in his sleep, before calming down enough to venture into the living room.

Sure enough, on the couch, Kenma is tucked against Tsukishima’s chest, his ear pressed to the younger boy’s heartbeat, and Tsukishima looks tired but brave again.  Tsukishima’s good arm rests on Kenma’s back, a strong hand keeping Kenma from falling and hurting himself.

Kuroo smiles warmly as Tsukishima’s eyes flicker open to meet his.

“Kuroo.”  Kenma says, tipping his head back to look at Kuroo, his eyes clouded with sleep and exhaustion.

Mindful of the fractured ankle, Kuroo lifts Kenma’s feet and then rests them on his thigh, stroking his thumb in soothing circles in the skin just above the bandages.  Kenma makes a noise of contentment, nestling closer to Tsukishima, who smiles fondly and closes his eyes again. 

“I love you both so much.”  Kuroo confesses to the sunrise, when he thinks they have both fallen asleep.

He says the words not to reassure them of it, nor does he use it to remind himself.  There are no witnesses to this one save Kuroo himself and the rising dawn.  Kuroo says it because it is true.

 

-

 

Sawamura Daichi and Sugawara Koushi get married in spring the following year.  The wedding is brilliant and beautiful, and Kuroo’s heart warms over as he watches Daichi and Suga dance, beaming at each other like there’s nothing in the world that mattered except that one moment.

Kuroo laughs too much, finds himself in too many photos and drinks until he is dizzy and happy and nearly knocks Tsukishima over when he tries to get the boy to dance.  There are flowers everywhere, and Tsukishima has petals in his hair when the night ends.  They find Kenma fast asleep under a table with Hinata draped across his side, and Kuroo guesses that the drinking competition Hinata had been trying to hold all night had gone well.

Hinata rouses grumpily when they separate them, and after some convincing, staggers off to find Kageyama.  Kenma, on the other hand, doesn’t stir and Tsukishima ends up carrying him because he doesn’t trust Kuroo to not fall over and hurt them both.  Kuroo, watching the world slide back and forth, thinks that is a good call. 

They seek out Daichi and Suga to congratulate the couple again before saying goodbye, and Tsukishima deposits Kenma in the backseat before getting into the car himself.  Kuroo feels like the adopted son or something when he turns back to see Daichi and Suga standing at the curb, waving goodbye with sappy lovestruck faces.

Kuroo sinks into the passenger seat, pressing his face against the cool glass.  He’s so happy he feels like he could float away.  When the car stops at a stoplight, Kuroo blurts, “We should do that too, one day.  Get married.”

The sudden quiet is sobering.  

Kuroo freezes, closing his eyes at the silence.  It takes awhile before Kuroo musters the courage to look over.

“How would that work?”  Tsukishima asks slowly.  He’s unsure, surprised, but he doesn’t say no.  In the darkness, Tsukki’s eyes are the night sky, lights from the passing cars reflected like constellations in the dark orbs. 

 _Gravity,_ Kuroo thinks.  _We were all drawn to each other._

“How it has always worked.”  Kuroo answers.

Tsukishima reaches out, placing a hand over Kuroo’s wordlessly.  Then the light turns green, and he pulls away to concentrate on driving.

Kuroo doesn’t mind.  He watches Tsukishima drive, and glances back at Kenma. This is them, in the past, in the present, in the future.  Surrounded by lights and stars and the promise of a million years more, expanding, vast, eternal.

“I love you.”  Tsukishima says in the darkness, and Kuroo’s heart sings: _me too_.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I can write anything without DaiSuga being sappy idiots in the background <3 ;D 
> 
> Still figuring out the works of this particular relationship, I'd love any feedback you can give :)


End file.
